


Flowers Grow From The Hole Left In My Heart

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grieving, Healing, If Vax Can Make Snowdrops Then Yasha Can Make Snapdragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 22:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: It's been over a year since Molly died, and Yasha wants to leave flowers on his grave.





	Flowers Grow From The Hole Left In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic after Molly died and before Caduceus joined the party and only just now decided to finish it. I'm about 90% sure that the Nein are going to go back to Molly's grave and find it empty this week, but here's a fic about what might happen in that 10% chance that Molly stays in the ground for awhile.
> 
> (Notice I said awhile and not forever. This is Matt we're talking about and I wouldn't be at all surprised if the party runs into Lucien at some point. And on that day my heart will be ripped from my chest in the best/worst way and I will be screaming just as much as the rest of you.)

There was only a stick to mark where Molly’s grave had been dug, but Yasha could have found the grave if she had been blindfolded. She had always known where to find Molly when he had been alive. Now that he was dead, well, it was even easier. She sat down crosslegged on the new spring grass, noting that the earth hadn’t been disturbed. She checked. It had been over a year and still she checked, every single time. She still awoke from dreams of empty graves, empty red eyes staring at her with no recognition in their depths.

Yasha remembered standing at the grave days after their escape from the Iron Shepherds. Beau had been yelling about the coat being gone. Jester had been crying, Fjord holding her close. Yasha had only stood there, silent and still as stone. She had known Molly had died even before Beau had told her, how could she not, but seeing the grave had made it real in a way that mere words had not. There was still a place inside her that felt empty and hollow, no matter how much she tried to fill it with other things, duty and loyalty. Not even knowing that Lorenzo was dead had eased the ache.

“Hi,” Yasha said softly. She spent most of her days in silence, that hadn’t changed, but living or dead, Molly had always been the easiest for Yasha to talk to. “Still haven’t found your coat. You probably don’t mind, but, well, you know….” She brushed her fingers against the skin of her inner arm, over the lines of the enchanted peacock feather tattoo that she had gotten last Barren Eve, watching the colors shift and change. It had hurt, but it had been a good hurt. Cathartic.

“I think… I think I might be ready to go back now. Lately I’ve been feeling like I could find them. Like… like I used to be able to find you.”

Trying to travel with the Mighty Nein after Molly’s death had been… difficult for Yasha. She had tried, she really had, but every time she had looked at them all she had seen was the person who was missing, who would always be missing. Molly had been her anchor in some ways, but he had also been her way into the group, her reason for coming back to them again and again. It hadn’t helped that every time she had looked at Jester and Fjord all she could think about had been that night they had all been taken, what they had been through, how helpless she had been to stop what had happened. She had been a silent mess of grief and anger, so when the Stormlord had called to her one winter evening, she had walked away from the group and after her task had been done she had just… kept walking.

Yasha didn’t remember much about that winter, just snow and cold and tears freezing on her cheeks. Worn down by grief, she had eventually taken sick with fever, yet still she had walked on, feeling hollow and lost. She hadn’t been surprised when her feet had taken her back to Molly’s grave. Where else would she have gone? She had a dim memory of digging at the frozen ground, of screaming her rage and pain and loss to the sky, of feeling the snow cover her as she had knelt there. By that point she was so far gone that she had thought she had heard Molly pleading with her to get up, to keep walking. She must have done so, because otherwise how had she ended up in the Savalier Wood days away from Molly’s grave? The woods had reminded her of home, of Xhorhas, the purple gray cast to the land very familiar to her. Her feet had lead her to a place full of both death and life, gravestones and flowers, summer in winter, and that was where she had collapsed, sick and exhausted and empty of everything except grief.

That was where she had met what remained of the  Guiatao Clan of firbolgs, who had also fallen victim to the Iron Shepherds. That was where she had regained her health and her strength. That was where she met Ombo, a firbolg child who hadn’t spoken since the attack on his clan, who had one of Molly’s horn trinkets braided into his hair just like Yasha had a silk flower braided into hers, the last gifts Molly had ever given. It was where she had gone back to the next time the Stormlord had called her away. It was where she had mourned her loss and theirs as she tended flowers and learned more about nature and helped defend the Wildmother’s temple from bone-spurred beasts and wandering spirits.

Over time the hurt had become… less. There would always be the ache, Yasha knew that. But there was a different ache as well, now. She found herself missing the Nein, worrying about them. Was Jester still having nightmares about being chained up and alone? Was Fjord still having trouble sleeping when things were too quiet, too peaceful? How was Caleb doing, and Nott, and Beau? She realized that she had distanced herself from Caduceus because it had felt like the firbolg had been trying to fill the space where Molly should have been standing, and that wasn’t true, or fair. She felt strong enough now to try again, to look at the group with a fresh perspective, to see if there was a place for her still.

“I wanted to put flowers on your grave,” Yasha said softly. “But picking them just to have them die seemed wrong, and I didn’t want to disturb any of the plants in the Blooming Grove to bring them here. It’d be like stealing from the dead.” She put her hand in the grass, curled her fingers into the dirt. “You never met Nila, but she was one of the people who helped in our rescue. She, well, she taught me something. A little druid magic. It’s not much, but…”

Yasha felt the magic flow through her fingers, as warm and gentle as the sun, and watched the small green shoots poke up through the soil, watched them grow and strengthen and bloom in a matter of moments, red and purple snapdragons as bright and colorful as her friend, her heart, her true north had been. They would die in the fall, but the seeds they dropped would sprout and grow again in the spring. She stayed kneeling for a moment, breathing in the sweet scent, before pulling her book of pressed flowers from her pack. She picked one blossom and tucked it carefully into her book, next to the four leaf clover Molly had given her what seemed like so long ago.

“I know the dead never really leave us,” Yasha said. “So this isn’t goodbye. But I think it’s time for me to go.”

A warm breeze blew through the flowers, making them look as if they were nodding at her. Yasha nodded back before standing up. There was a feeling in her heart, like something inside of her was leaning towards the sun, towards friendship and warmth, and she followed that feeling as she walked away from the grave and down the road towards what she had left behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Barren Eve is from the Tal'Dorei campaign guide and is the holiday at the beginning of winter where people remember those who have died in battle. It seemed fitting for Yasha to get a memorial tattoo then. 
> 
> Special thanks to Cin, who when I told him about this idea, told me that Yasha wouldn't even have to take a level in druid to get Druidcraft, she could just take the Magic Initiate Feat. It's the same feat that Shakaste has that allows him to have a few wizard cantrips and spells, including Find Familiar. 
> 
> I'm angel-ascending over on Tumblr if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


End file.
